Sunrise
by mykelara
Summary: Alec Hardy reflects on his weekend in Sandbrook with Ellie. Missing scenes, somewhere between S2E4 & E5. It's in the same AU as my other stories, so close but not quite.


**A/N:** For those of you who have read "A Better Way To Fall" – remember the letters? This is their story. It's set in the same AU as "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul" and "A Better Way to Fall". It's the same Alec Hardy just in a different point in his life. There are no true spoilers for the other stories (well if you read it thoroughly you might get a hint, but it's okay I think). Alec mentions a few OCs (Baxter – his former boss and good friend; Emily Abbott – his cardiologist in Sandbrook; Duncan – his oldest friend).

This ficlet takes place sometime between E4 and E5, after the weekend in Sandbrook and during the night before Ellie and Alec go to talk to the bridesmaid. (this is the revised version)

* * *

 **Sunrise**

Hardy woke up choking and sputtering, like every night. He buried his tear stained face in his pillow, sobbing with pain, the pain in his chest and his heart alike. Tonight at least, Pippa's ghost had not turned into Daisy, and he was grateful for this little reprieve that his frayed mind had granted him.

Still shaking, he sat up as he couldn't catch his breath any other way. His symptoms had worsened quickly in the past weeks, and fear that he might have waited too long clenched his stomach. Slowly he put his bare feet on the floor, trying to gain some grounding sensation, but his eerie dream still had a tight hold over him. He checked the time, 3:32 A.M. He had been out for three and a half hours, better than most nights. Not sleeping at all while driving back from Sandbrook might have helped with that.

 _God,_ he didn't even want to think about the weekend. It had seemed like a good idea, but as usual his plans rapidly went downhill. He hadn't intended to tell Miller about how he'd found Pippa. He had never talked to anyone about it, not even Baxter or Tess. His oldest friend Duncan had teased out a little, but Hardy had promptly retreated into himself, too shaken to put it into words.

Ellie had teared up for the girl. Something inside him wanted to believe some of her tears might have been for him as well. Even if he hadn't wanted to, it felt right telling her. She needed to hear why this case had affected him so thoroughly. She needed to see what it had done to him. She needed to understand that his motivation wasn't wounded pride or an unhealthy obsession with Lee Ashworth. Especially now as he doubted more and more that he had it in him to finish. She needed to know, so she would do it for him. He was clinging on to that hope.

His breathing still hadn't eased up and his heart was dragging along, the pauses between beats getting longer. His trembling hands found the pills and there was only the briefest moment of hesitation, if he should take them or not. He had limped along for so long, barely holding on, that giving up at this point seemed rather dumb. He washed down two of the chalky tablets, his elbows resting on his knees and his clasped hands dangling between his legs.

It was taking longer than usual for the medication to take effect. Yet another indication that his health - whatever that was these days - was rapidly declining. When he had offered to sleep in the car, not only Miller had been worried that it might not be a good idea, even if he argued against it. They hadn't talked about his heart since the trial started. He assumed though, she must have noted something. After all he was moving so much slower than a few months before, hardly able to keep it together.

Sometimes he wished, she would fuss more. She used to, but now that her life was consumed by the atrocities her husband had committed, she didn't have the energy any longer. In fact, he found himself fussing over her. His clumsy attempts usually didn't go far, but he was determined to keep trying. He owed her that much. For asking her for help, for dragging her into his nightmare. Oddly enough, she seemed to do better the more she got involved. This was something new to Hardy who had been pulled under by this case in so many ways. It actually doing good for someone was completely foreign to him.

He had slept well two nights before. For the first time in months, he was able to find rest for more than four hours, lying by her side. There was no sudden arousal accompanied by coughing and sputtering, just the subtle haunted feeling evoked by Pippa's bloated face. He had hidden his muffled scream well, and Ellie only moaned in her sleep, not waking up.

She, however, wasn't as good at hiding yet.

Unable to doze off again, he'd stayed in the bed, listening to her slow breathing. He had bathed in the consolation another human being sleeping next to him brought with it. It had felt like tasting a forbidden fruit while he had been watching her in her slumber. That was not his life any more. He had listened and stared at her in the dark, until she had woken up with a scream and crying. He had pretended to be asleep, knowing how deep the need to hide could be. She had hastily stilled her tears, and when she had come back from the bathroom, she'd surprised him by tucking his blanket tighter around him. After she had laid down again, her hand had patted around in the dark until she'd found his wrist to check his pulse. He hadn't expected that. Her warm fingers had been holding his hand, two of them placed gently over his artery and feeling for his treacherous heartbeat. And then something had happened, that hadn't happened in many months. He fell back asleep. When he had woken up in the morning, he had felt rested, a state that had eluded him ever since he had found Pippa.

Eventually, he could breathe more easily, and his heart had settled down to the dysfunctional level of what he called normal now. He dared to stand up and move to the kitchen. Tea would be nice, but he was out again. He sighed, letting out an exasperated huff. He stared at the fairly empty fridge. His appetite these days was non-existent. He knew he needed to eat, but it didn't feel right most of the times. So he just forced himself to take the bare minimum. Truth be told, it probably wasn't even that. His sweat pants were slipping off his bony hips and he had to use a different hole in his belt the other day. His doctors in Broadchurch didn't seem to notice or maybe they didn't care. Not for the first time, he wished Emily Abbott could be taking care of him. She got him, knew how to deal with him. She would be horrified, if she could see him now. Probably kick him out. But maybe she would also be a tiny bit proud that he finally was going through with this. If he made it until then.

He decided to put on a fresh shirt, trousers, tie, the whole thing. Contrary to Miller's belief, he owned more than one shirt and suit. In the morning, they'd planned to dig up that bridesmaid. Until then he was free. He stepped out of his blue chalet, closing the door carefully behind him. He gazed up in the starry sky, the North Star shining bright on the dark canvas. Hardy's lips curled up in a small smile. Daisy and he used to sit in the backyard and look at the night time horizon. That used to be the only type of horizon he could handle. Daisy would be proud of him, if she knew that he had taken quite a liking to going up the cliffs and enjoying the never-ending sky. Or maybe she wouldn't. He had missed so much of her life that he wasn't at all sure any more what she would like and what not.

The anger over Ricky Gillespie showing up at the first dinner he'd had with his child in over a year, was boiling hot in him. He had been humiliated and threatened right in front of his daughter. And Tess had simply sat there and watched. But then, was he really surprised? After all the contempt, the accusations, and arguments, he shouldn't be. What did surprise him though was, that she had sold him out to Ricky. She had never confirmed that it was her who had told Ricky where they were having dinner, but there wasn't anyone else who had known.

It hurt, even after everything that had transpired. That she would expose him in front of Daisy, robbing him of finding whatever little peace he could have. The moment he had stood up to face Ricky, he had felt so weak. He hated it. All he had been able to do was stand there, one hand on Daisy's shoulder, more for his own comfort than hers, and listen to the man spewing his venom at him. Daisy had looked so disturbed. For the remainder of the dinner, he'd been lost in the thought that this might have been the last time he would see his child and all she would remember was this strange man telling her that her father let a child murderer walk free.

He had to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The stars above and the world around him were spinning. When the moment had passed and the pain had eased up, he decided to go for a walk. His mind too fatigued to take control, he let his body do the navigating. His long and slow strides took him to the beach. It was pitch black down there. His feet found their way to his spot without even thinking about it. Exhausted even from this short walk, he slumped down onto the damp sand. He pulled up his legs and hugged his knees, staring into the dark ocean. The waves crushing onto the shore was the only sound, drowning everything else out. He enjoyed the feeling of the ocean mist on his face and the taste of the salt on his lips. He would never admit to, but he'd found himself liking the beach where he could finding solace in the never-ending coming and going of the tides.

He ran his hands over his face. Rather suddenly, the desolation of his existence hit him with full force, taking his breath away and asphyxiating him. His fingers were trembling and he couldn't make them stop. His eyes were stinging, but today he had no tears. A twinge in his chest reminded him that there was a real chance of him dying very soon. Alone.

The thought in and itself almost killed him. A choked up sob escaped his throat. He was so afraid. Afraid of never seeing Daisy again. Afraid of not having the chance of saying goodbye. Afraid of going to the hospital by himself. Afraid of dying, but just as much afraid of waking up after and things still being the same.

The last time he came to after he had collapsed in the boat yard, Miller had been there. She'd been angry and annoyed, but still there with him; strong and irritating Ellie Miller, a force of nature, grounding him with her endless nagging. And then he had nothing better to do than to go and break her. Even if it wasn't his fault, he felt irrationally responsible for what was happening to her. He knew he wasn't, not really, but watching her shatter in front of his eyes was almost more than he could take. He wished not for the first time, he had better abilities to share with her how his life had fallen apart, share not to relieve his loneliness but to give her an opportunity to turn around, to not follow him down the path of self-destruction and desolation.

They had spent a whole night in the car without saying a word. He had been screaming inside, full of despair, rage and panic at the same time, unable to share with the only person who might actually have understood some of his anguish. He had forgotten how to do that a long time ago, even before he found Pippa in the water. Maybe he had never really known how to. There had been people who could help him talk, but he had been avoiding them, afraid of breaking through whatever thin ice was left beneath his feet and then finally drowning for good. He hugged his knees tighter, longing for the consolation of human touch. Ellie Miller didn't want to hug him, and he got it. It wasn't what he did, it was what other people did, but not him. Not any more. Even Daisy had wiggled out of his arms quickly when they'd met in the restaurant.

The morning light was starting to come up behind him. It was those early hours when everything looked gray, before the sun could lend its light to bring out the colors. He idly wondered if this might be his last sunrise at the beach. The procedure was scheduled for in a few days from now, more than two years after it had been first recommended to him. More than two years after he'd died and they'd brought him back. He'd lived ever since, barely. More than two years after his world had turned to shit. The pacemaker wasn't going to fix any of this, but maybe it would give him a fair chance to at least attempt to make some changes.

He didn't know much any more, but one thing he did know. He couldn't stay alone any longer. The loneliness was killing him, more than anything else. He had to stop shutting out the world, had to reconnect with what was around him. People, places, life. He had to put things right in order to possibly have a chance at becoming whole again. His thoughts drifted to his daughter. There were so many things he wanted to tell Daisy, wanted to explain to her. He might never get the chance. He understood now why Emily Abbott had been so insistent about telling his family, why she pointed out so many times how her father regretted not having shared. He had run out of time to do so, he could be dead in a few days. And Daisy would be left with nothing but questions and the memory of her father being a failure. He couldn't bear the thought.

He pulled out his phone and almost dialed her number, but then didn't. He was sure she wouldn't pick up. This wasn't something for a phone message. But he could write her a letter. That sounded right.

Feeling the urgency of living on borrowed time he clambered to his feet, body stiff and cold. He walked home faster than he probably should have, but he needed to do what he had set out to. When he got back to his blue shack, he rummaged through it until he finally found some white paper. He sat down at the small table under the window and started writing.

It took him many tries and over an hour, but eventually he filled the blank sheets with what he wanted to say to his daughter. When he put the letter in an envelope, he was crying with relief. For once in recent months he felt he had done the right thing. He placed the letter carefully in his jacket pocket, hoping somebody would find it and give it to Daisy in case something happened to him. His gaze fell on one of the empty pieces of paper. He sat down again, tapping his fingers on the table and chewing on his bottom lip. Then he pulled over another sheet and started writing a second letter. To Ellie Miller.


End file.
